


Twisting Tradition

by MotherMaple



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherMaple/pseuds/MotherMaple
Summary: Betty and Jughead take advantage of happenstance at Veronica's wedding.This is AU, and would be OOC if it wasn't for the season finale.**This work is inappropriate for readers under the legal age of consent**





	Twisting Tradition

Betty stood next to Veronica and Cheryl, clutching the bouquet apprehensively with both hands. "I can't believe this. No one said this was a three-part deal."

She watched, absent-mindedly shredding the imported white roses, as Archie climbed onto a chair waving the garter over his head, and tossed it into the crowd of more or less inebriated men.

"Oh relax, Betty. There is not a single guy in that crowd that I wouldn't let drag a garter up my leg."

"Veronica, I'm in this mess because you let Archie drag the damn thing down your leg. Why didn't you tell me you were going to do the whole lamb-to-slaughter thing?"

A cheer broke out amongst the men and Betty craned to see her new counterpart, heart pounding and palms sweating.

"Because, I was hoping for exactly this outcome. Look who it is." Veronica's eyes sparkled. "This is perfect."

Amidst cat calls and slaps on the back, someone was being pushed to the front of the crowd of would-be garter catchers. He'd long since ditched his jacket and tie, and his shirt was partly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His thick, black hair fell messily across his forehead and a hint of a tattoo peeked out from under his cuff.

Jughead fucking Jones. Of course.

"Oh my God, Betty. He looks like sex on a stick. If you don't get out there, I'm going for you," Cheryl muttered in her ear.

Betty glared at Cheryl and looked out the corner of her eye at her partner for the next stage of this archaic exhibition. He watched her with an amused, slightly predatory grin. Someone handed him a glass of whisky which he swallowed in one toss, never breaking eye contact with her.

He had not been this sinfully attractive in high school.

"Get me a damn drink, Veronica."

"Oh, by all means, take mine. This is the best wedding present ever." Veronica gleefully handed her a half-full glass of champagne, which she downed like a shot. "Stop looking like you're going to meet the executioner. You said yourself you were sick of the pointless flirting. You wanted more and you've got it. Grow a pair and get out there."

She'd known him for years, always with the slightest undercurrent of tension, and four months ago they'd both found themselves single at the same time. There had been flirting, mostly playful. There had been one drunken kiss, never to be spoken of again. Dancing at various wedding events had grown more and more suggestive until Betty was ready to club him over the head and drag him back to her hotel room.

Shit. She wanted him, and she was done lying to herself.

She grabbed Chery's champagne and slammed it back. "Right. Don't wait up, girls."

Steeling herself, Betty straightened her back and prowled onto the dance floor, hips swaying. She flashed him an open-mouthed smile and crooked her finger at him. Dragging her tongue suggestively over her teeth, she raked her eyes down his body, then met his gaze. They were toe-to-toe, with a deafening cacophony of whistles and cheers all around them.

It was a stupid tradition that was a staple at weddings, everyone secretly waiting for something salacious to happen. Nothing ever did, but hope kept the tradition alive. Well. The people wanted a show, and she was going to give them one. Fortunately, everyone from the parent generation had long ago left the reception, and all that was left was a crowd of drunken twenty-somethings who would take it all as an elaborate performance between friends.

"Jughead."

"Betty." He cocked his eyebrow and smirked at her. "You look flushed."

She brushed her fingers against her cheek then let her hand drift slowly down her throat towards the dangerously low-cut bridesmaid's dress that Veronica had insisted on. "Maybe it's hot in here," she murmured.

His eyes followed her hand and lingered a second too long on her cleavage. "Nice dress."

Archie's voice came over the speakers. "Alright, everyone knows the rules. The lady who caught the bouquet gets to keep the lucky garter, and the lucky bastard that caught it gets to put it on her leg." He winked suggestively. "Without touching the garter with his hands."

Jughead raised his eyebrows at this, and looked at Betty with a question in his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't expected that.

"You heard the man, Juggie. No hands." Her voice dropped dangerously, her lips barely an inch from his. "Let's see what you can do with your teeth."

His mouth dropped slightly open and he searched her face for some hint of laughter.

Betty knew that all he would see was shameless lust, and a hint of defiance. If he wanted her, now was his chance to show her. If not, he could play his part and carry on as normal with no one but her the wiser.

"You're playing with fire, Betty." His voice was strained, gravelly.

She met his eyes boldly. "Oh, I hope so. But it's up to you. We can play nice, if you'd rather."

One of the groomsmen placed a chair at Betty's side and Jughead gripped her hips and pushed her into it, whispering in her ear, "Not a chance."

Oh God, that voice. She squeezed her thighs together and curved her lips into a lethal smile. "Excellent."

She shifted slightly forward in the chair and leaned back, her elbows resting on the top rung. She was Mrs Robinson: silk-covered leg extended, high heel dangling from the tip of her toe.

Jughead braced his hands on the sides of her chair and leaned in to mutter, "You're going to pay for this later."

"Promise?" she challenged, her eyes huge and innocent.

His lips ghosted against her jaw, hot breath tickling her neck. "Hold on tight."

He dropped to his knees in front of her and twirled the garter on one finger. She rolled her eyes mockingly and gestured to her leg, as if to say 'well? Get on with it.' The crowd roared their approval at the theatrics. She blew them a kiss and flicked her shoe off.

He mimed a kiss at her and grasped the garter in his teeth, the hanging scrap of lace tickling her ankle, then looped it over her foot. "Last chance to bow out, Cooper."

"Never."

Her breath hitched in her throat when his lips grazed her, teeth scraping lightly as he caught at the garter. Eyes closed, he worked it slowly up her calf, his mouth open against her skin, his hand caressing the back of her leg. She could feel his breath through her stocking, shaky and hot.

He paused at her knee. Looking at her from under impossibly long eyelashes, he very deliberately placed a searing kiss on the inside of her thigh and draped her leg over his shoulder. She let out a startled moan and he pulled the garter higher, teasing her with his tongue.

The hem of her dress stopped him half-way up her thigh and he pulled away slowly, eyes locked on hers. Heat pooled in her stomach as she gripped the sides of her chair with white knuckles. Oh, yes. She definitely wanted more and, based on what she'd just seen, so did he.

The screams and cheers from their fellow wedding guests pulled her back to reality with a snap. She glanced quickly over at Veronica, who was standing with her jaw nearly on the floor, clutching Cheryl's wrist in shock. Cheryl caught Betty's eye and fanned herself rapidly with her purse.

Betty looked back at Jughead as he disentangled himself from her legs and made to stand up. His hair was mussed and his pupils blown almost black. He smiled teasingly. "Did you enjoy that, Miss Cooper?"

"You should have kept going, then you wouldn't have to ask."

He huffed out a surprised laugh and got to his feet, pulling her with him. "Take a bow," he ordered. "Mustn't disappoint our public."

Betty plastered a convincing look of good-humoured embarrassment on her face and curtsied, hoping everyone had been too drunk to be able to remember the performance later, or at least too drunk to take it seriously.

A fast, suggestive beat poured out of the speakers and the floor was instantly crowded with dancing, laughing people. Jughead pulled her against him and she let herself melt into his chest, circling her hips in sync with the music.

"Who would have thought that little Betty Cooper was such an exhibitionist," he murmured in her ear. His hands roamed between her waist and her hips, bunching the silky fabric of her dress, holding her tight against him. "That was quite a show you put on."

She reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his head down so she could whisper back "I could say the same to you. You were...extremely convincing."

"I'm glad you thought so, because I wasn't pretending. Were you?"

"No." She paused, her heart fluttering. "I wanted your hands on me." She flexed her fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp. "I want your hands on me." She flicked out her tongue and bit his ear lightly.

"Fuck, Betty," he hissed. His hand slid down, disappearing through the slit in her skirt, pulling her leg up around his. Rough, calloused fingers dipped under the bridal garter, then traveled up her bare thigh. " _Jesus Christ_ ," he exhaled. "Are you wearing a garter belt?"

"Keep that up, and maybe you'll find out." She moved her lips against his neck as she spoke. "You're going the right way to learn all of Victoria's secrets tonight."

"Oh, my God," he groaned. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Her hips rolled languidly into his. "At least part of it is evident. The more important question," she whispered, "is what are you going to do to me?"

His fingers traced patterns up and down her bare back. "The things I want to do to you would fill a very long, very dirty book, Elizabeth."

"Just a little taste, then. Enough to hook the reader."

He chuckled softly into her hair. The song changed to a slower, sexy rhythm and he slid his arms around her and moved sensually to the beat. She leaned into the long, hard lines of his body; relishing his obvious excitement, his overwhelmingly masculine scent, his wandering hands boldly stroking everywhere they could reach. She could get drunk on his presence alone.

"I want to touch you, to know what your skin feels like when you think you're on fire. I want to know if you taste the way you do in my dreams, like honey and salt." He tilted her head back and pressed his lips to her neck, licking and sucking from her collarbone to her ear, dragging his thumb down the column of her throat. "I want to kiss every square inch of your body until you're writhing underneath me." His voice was low and raspy. "I want to feel your hair on my chest as you move lower and lower. I want your mouth on me, hot and wet." His tongue swirled around her earlobe and she whined softly.

"What else?" She whispered.

"I want to see you arch your back and tear at the sheets when I slide into you. I want to know what my name sounds like when you moan it in my ear." He nipped at her neck. "I want to hear you beg."

"God, yes..." she breathed, dropping her head back.

He grasped her hair sharply and tugged, forcing her to look at him. "I want to see your eyes while I make you come apart. I want to feel you trembling, your legs wrapped around me, your nails digging into my back. I want you to scream for me not to stop until you shatter all around me."

She was shaking against him, her breath coming in short, hungry gasps. He held her jaw firmly in his hand and looked straight into her eyes. "I want to take you upstairs right now and..."

Betty whimpered and cut him off, throwing her arms around his neck and crushing her lips against his. He groaned and his hands dropped below her waist, his hips bucking into hers of their own volition.

"Christ, Betty, tell me you have a room in his hotel," he panted.

"Third floor," she mumbled into his mouth. "The key's in my purse. Head table."

He grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to the bridal party's table. Veronica was sitting there with Cheryl and Josie, giggling and drinking champagne out of the bottle. She looked up when Jughead and Betty approached, a wide grin appearing on her face.

"Well then," she said. "That was certainly something. Good thing Nana Andrews left early or we might have had to call in the paramedics."

Jughead threw his arm around Veronica's shoulders and kissed her soundly on the cheek. "You're stunning, Veronica, and it was a beautiful wedding. I wish you every happiness. Call me any time Archie gets out of line. Meanwhile, Betty promised to lend me a book, so we're just going to go grab it. Bye!"

"Happy reading!" Veronica shouted as Jughead pulled a stumbling Betty out of the ballroom. "Must be a hell of a book." She shared a look with Josie and Cheryl and all three burst out laughing. "Cheers to wedding sex!" She cried, clinking her bottle against Cheryl's.


End file.
